Lazarus Rising
by PassPtOfObsession
Summary: Episode Re-write: Dean is back from the dead and needs to see his brother. However, is Sam the same person Dean left behind?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: The episode bugged me because it Sam didn't even shed a tear...so I wrote my own version. I still love Supernatural!

**Disclaimer: **Supernatural is owned by the CW

**Retake on 4.01**

Emotions ran deeply as Dean approached the numbered door, Bobby following behind closely, as if Dean would disappear. Tears sprung to his eyes at the knowledge that he was going to finally see his brother. The four months that had apparently passed were lost to him; the only things coming to memory consisting of fire, agony and screaming. Honestly, he didn't care to dwell on the past wanting, no, needing to in clasp his brother in a well deserved hug. Rubbing his chest absently, he found himself frozen, eyes locked on thirteen in golden numbers hanging silently on the door. Swallowing down a lump that was suddenly choking him, Dean let out a loud sigh.

"Go on son." Bobby whispered comfortingly from behind.

Bobbing his head, Dean glanced over his shoulder, a half of a smile plastered on his face. "Yeah…uhh-right." It would seem like the easiest thing to do, but for some reason that Dean could not pinpoint, he was stuck. The image of Sam smiling at him made his heart ache just to see his brother again. However, he was starting to realize that what he pictured his brother as might not be what he finds. Bobby had lost contact with Sam, which meant the boy could be doing anything, including slowly killing himself with beer or who knows what else. It had almost ripped Sam apart waiting for the deal to come due. Now that it had happened, he wondered if his death had stolen a part of his brother. Shoving his fears aside Dean forced himself to grin, rapping his knuckles on the wood. The wail of a baby next door filled in the silence, the Winchester starting to wonder if Sam was even going to answer the door.

Seconds before he was going to ask Bobby if he had the right address the hinges squeaked, grabbing Dean's attention.

"How did you find me?" Snapped a masculine voice from behind the crack.

Dean immediately recognized it, smile becoming genuine. "Sammy…" He croaked, blinking back oncoming tears.

"Dean…" Bobby warned, hand grasping Dean's shoulder. "He's not the Sam you knew."

The Winchester glared at the older man, shaking off his fingers. Facing the door once more, he chuckled. "Come on Sammy, I could find you anywhere. Your height is like a beacon." The teasing had no affect, seemingly angering Sam further.

"Don't call me that, Dean only calls me that. And you're not Dean….shape shifter…." With a growl Sam leaped from through the door, shoving Dean against the wall.

In that one moment, everything seemed to stop. Time slowed till Dean found himself frowning at what he saw as he stared at his brother. Dark bluish purple crescents lay underneath cold, empty eyes. The healthy skin on his face was now a light creamy tone that scared Dean to his core. Boyishly chocolate locks were oily and wisped in every direction. Sweat was beading underneath uncut bangs, streaking down the side of Sam's temple. Rage was filling the dark depths. Dean has never had such a stare directed towards him.

"I'm going to kill you!"

The shout caused time to slam back, the hard wall slamming into the back of his head with enough force to cause stars to dance in front of his eyes.

"Sam! Come on! Sam!" Bobby screamed, trying to pry the youngest Winchester. His attempts were futile, the emotions driving Sam becoming physical power.

Keeping the knife's edge against Dean's neck Sam whipped a gun out from his belt, aiming it directly at Bobby's chest. "Back the hell off." He spoke with an emotionless tone, weapon unwavering. The shock on Bobby's face did not shake the Winchester's resolve.

Fear sprouted in Dean's gut at what Sam has become, the hunter within gone and replaced with a killer. _No, don't think like that!_ Calming himself down, he kept his hands up in a defenseless gesture. "Sam, Sammy…It's me. You don't want to shoot Bobby or me. I know you don't. My little brother isn't a killer." That got Sam's attention, causing his head to snap around, brows furrowing for a second. "Now come on…put the gun down."

The tension in the air was thick enough that it threatened to burst. As the seconds went by Sam began to shake. At first it was small tremors and then it was as if he was going to fall over. Emotions played over his face, stabbing Dean in the heart with every flash.

"Just put it down Sammy. I'm back. I'm here."

Bobby glanced at Dean as he spoke, deciding whether to continue to let Dean try to talk the kid down or catch Sam because he wouldn't be able to stand much longer. The older Winchester was having an affect though, stopping Bobby from making a move and shattering the work Dean was doing.

"De-an…?" Sam choked, slightly lowering the knife and gun simultaneously. Tears glistened in his eyes, chest heaving as he held back sobs. "No…you're-you're de-ad…"

Dean felt a hot tear break through, dripping off his cheek. Smiling, he nodded, swallowing. "Yeah…I was…but-but I'm here now Sammy…" Raising a hand, he rested it over the knife; shoulders slumping as he finally touched his brother. He was alive.

Slowly Bobby wrapped his fingers around the barrel, removing it from Sam's grip easily and stepping back, allowing the two brothers to have their moment. Tears themselves sparkled in his gaze.

"That's it Sammy…I'm back." Dean whispered hoarsely, the knife dropping to the floor with a clang.

Sam's arms dropped to his sides; face wrinkling as he broke in front of his brother. "It's really you…" He wheezed, falling forward and latching onto Dean's form. Every fiber of his being was exhausted.

"Whoa Sammy!" Dean yelped wrapping his arms around his little brother. He didn't expect to have to hold up all of Sam however and slowly slid down to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Thanks for the reviews, alerts and favs

**Chapter 2**

Slowly Dean slid along the wall, knees bending as he plopped his buttocks down onto the cold tiled floor

Slowly Dean slid along the wall, knees bending as he plopped his buttocks down onto the cold tiled floor. Spreading his legs he accommodated Sam's form, still clingingly tightly to his younger brother. "I'm here." He cooed, smoothing the curls in Sam's locks as he rocked them from side to side.

Five minutes passed surprisingly quick, the brotherly moment broken as Sam pulled back, inches from Dean's face as he scrubbed the residue of his soul from his cheeks.

Seeing his brother's wet pink skin Dean chuckled, smirking softly. God how much he missed him. "You're going to be alright Sammy."

"Yeah…I know." Sam replied, voice hoarse as he fell back onto his behind. Feeling incredibly disgusting, the grubby appearance coming to his attention. Glancing down at himself, he grimaced.

Dean noticed the whole realization, laughing and patting Sam's shoulder. "Nice job keeping clean." The tone was light, keeping humor alive without shoving the fact that he'd been gone down Sam's throat again. Grin fading, he stood, dusting off his knees. Bending down he offered a hand, the other grasping Sam's forearm. "Come on Sasquatch."

"I can get up myself." Sam said indignantly, using the ground for support as he stood. The hold on his limb was shaken off. The moment he straightened he felt the world shift, vision blackening.

In full brother mode Dean snatched Sam's arm once more, keeping the Winchester from falling backwards. "Yeah…sure you can Sammy." He sighed, knowing this was going to happen. The boy weighted less than Dean remembered, another reminder on what his death had caused his brother. _Damn Bobby, you were supposed to watch him. I don't care if he went off the map, you should have found him. _The silent voice argued in his head, the anger kept locked away. He would talk with Bobby later, his brother his number one priority at the moment.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." The word 'bed' seemed to be the wrong choice, causing Sam to snap back to life and shake his head furiously, almost knocking himself back onto the floor in a heap. Frowning, Dean tried to keep a hold on Sam while not tripping over his brother's big scrambling feet.

"No-no-no-no!" Sam squeaked, eyes wide.

"What?! Why?! You need sleep!" Dean yelled, wincing immediately as Sam flinched at his tone. Cooling himself down, he grab Sam's other arm and leaned inward. "Why can't you go to sleep buddy?"

Sam reacted nicely to the change in pitch, seizing his struggling almost completely. Blinking, he tried to not break down for a second time. "You-dead-can't deal…" The words that came from Sam's mouth made no sense, the picture still forming in Dean's mind none the less.

"Sammy…I'll be there when you wake up, I promise." Dean noted quietly, moving his hand to Sam's neck, giving the tender flesh a squeeze. "It'll be alright."

"O-o-kay."

Sighing Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and guiding him through the doorway and into the bedroom.

The smell of mold and body odor was even worse in the hotel room, the flashing lights above each blue flower printed bed dying. The carpet was nice despite the peeling wallpaper and scratched table beside the small half-a-fridge. It was like an ocean of robin egg blue.

As Dean passed Bobby he nodded, the man keeping quiet in the corner of the room. He was fiddling through the millions of paper clippings and tid-bits forming a sheet over the opposite bed.

"There we go Sammy…over and down."

Sam followed the orders well for already tipping sideways, lids half closed. Collapsing on his side, his legs were hefted upwards and onto the soft sheets.

"There we go Sammy. Time for bed." Ruffling Sam's hair he slipped the blanket out from under him and whipped it over his little brother's form. The patterned sheet floated down and made an impression of Sam's body. As Dean went to turn his wrist was suddenly seized, his head swinging around to find Sam staring at him dough eyed.

"D-don't lea-ve." Sam whispered.

Dean felt his heart seize painfully in his chest. "I'm right here Sammy." He shook their clasped hands for emphasis, looking Sam dead in the eye.

* * *

"You should have fought tooth and nail with the phone company to locate him Bobby!"

"I'm not a damn mind-reader! I can't know all your aliases Dean!"

The hallway was filled with hot words that bounced off the walls and disappeared in the sounds coming from within the thin walls.

Dean paced back and forth, hands running through his hair, spiking it further. "You should have used some spirit talking voodoo magic!" Spinning around, he tried to pierce Bobby with his glare.

Stepping forward, Bobby sneered in rage. "Don't you fucken think I didn't try everything out of the book! You think I drank the bottle because of celebration boy?!" That caused Dean to shut his mouth; jaw clenched as he grinded his teeth. Bobbing his head Bobby relaxed his shoulders.

"Sorry Bobby…It's just…"

"He let himself go, I know Dean, I saw." Bobby interrupted sincerely. His eyes reached Dean's sad pools of hazel. "You'll get him back on his feet."

Silence stretched, energy leaving both occupants.

"Anyways, I was look'en through the pile scrap on the bed." Bobby blurted, hating to see his boy suffer. He knew he wasn't the biological father, and he never would want the spot. John had raised them well, despite what the boys think. "Its everything you can find on possession, hell, deals and traces of Lilith. Even the trickster is included."

That got Dean's attention, the Winchester raising his chin. Brows furrowed he began to slide into hunter mode. "You mean he thought he could make a deal with the Trickster and pull me out? Like before?"

Bobby nodded, shaking his head afterwards. "The boy was looking for everything Dean-_everything_."

Sighing, Dean hung his head. "I know…I figured as much." Teeth flashed as he gnawed on his bottom lip in thought. "I just…" Again his throat tightened, cutting off speech.

"Yeah…so did I." Both hunters predicted the youth to spiral, but not this far down the drain.

"Well, I better get back in before he wakes up again."

"Yeah, he went out like a light but I don't think he'll wake up so nicely. Call me if anything happens with you guys." Bobby yelled, already walking down the hall. He needed to look up some contacts and see what Sam had really been up to. Now that he knew where the kid was and what he was doing, it would be as easy as pie. That way, Dean could clean him up. Hell, the boy needed it.

"Yeah, we will." Dean replied softly after he heard the slam of a door shutting. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he walked back into the room, closing the door silently behind him. Sam was still where he left him, sprawled out on the bed, covers pulled away from the soles of his feet and arms. "Nice Sammy…Chicks dig that…" Dean teased quietly, not wanting to wake the younger Winchester. Staring at Sam a moment longer, he meandered over to the fridge, examining its contents. Beer bottles and moldy left-overs scarcely decorated the shelves. "And nothing to eat!" Cursing, he dropped onto the bed, ignoring the scatter of papers. "No television…no food…no more beer left…what a awesome place to pick Sammy….what a nice place…" Whistling through his teeth he forced himself to wait till Sam awoke.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming!

**Chapter 3**

The soft twisting of hotel sheets alerted Dean from his game. Thumbs having once been attacking each other froze, the older Winchester glancing to his right to see his sleeping brother tossing absently in the bed. It had been a long four hours of Dean playing thumb war by himself, bored out of his mind. The arch of the headboard bit into the back of his head, indenting it. "Finnally…" He sighed, righting himself and popping the tender vertebras in his back. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Dean stood. His body peered over the slumbering Winchester, noticing the sheen of sweat soaking the younger man's clothes till the white tee-shirt's collar was transparent.

Mumbled sentences left Sam's lips, head rubbing side to side on the pillow. Sheets were curled around him like a snake, shying away from the soles of his feet and palms of his hands.

Frowning, Dean tried to comprehend what his little brother was saying. The effort was cut off when Sam began to whimper as if in growing pain. "Sammy!" Dean called sharply, shaking the glistening forearm closest to him gently. The response he got was not what he imagined, an elbow jutting outward and jabbing him between the ribs.

Air left Dean's lungs in a loud whoosh, spine bending from the impact. Just as he was about to speak a hand snatched his throat and clamped down hard, rendering him speechless. Forced straight, Dean kept his eyes open, despite the encroaching blackness around his vision.

Sam stood menacingly, eyes once more cold and heartless. Dean almost expected to see black instead of icy green staring down at him.

"S-a-a-m." Dean gasped, hands instinctively shooting up to cover the ones choking him. This was getting ridiculous, the constant torture on his body wearing his patience to the bone.

The change happened quicker this time, the brown-haired Winchester calming instantly, not taking his time. Emotions flashed through the empty eyes, cutting Dean's heart into pieces with each expression. And just like that, the hand was off the other hunter's neck, leaving Dean gapping like a fish out of water.

"Dean?" Sam asked unsteadily.

Dean nodded, stopping himself from verbally ringing the youth out. "Yeah-the brother you love so much you choke him to death!" Coughing, he found his lungs filling again with sweet oxygen. "So much for traditional expression." Wiping saliva from the corner of his mouth, Dean looked up from the floor, standing from his keeled over position. He found Sam gazing at him, questioning.

"Stop staring at me like that. I'm not a ghost." Dean snapped, rubbing his throat. The stare was God damn unnerving to say the least. It made him want to pad himself down to know he was definitely here. Though, here wasn't the best place to be at the moment.

"S-sorry." Sam whispered, down casting his gaze. He couldn't voice his reasons, wanting to stare at Dean for years. He had been staring at pictures for four months. Images of their life on paper, a life he hated for taking Dean away from him in one foul sweep. Dean could never understand the pain. The trickster had been right. He had become something other than himself when his brother died. Now that Dean was back, Sammy didn't know what to do anymore. He had been on auto-pilot for so long he didn't know how to step off the train. How could you tell a brother that when he doesn't know the restless nights and panic attacks? You can't.

"Hello-earth to Sammy…"

Raising his head, Sam blinked, not realizing he had been out of it for a few minutes. It was enough time to send Dean into a heart attack, his face paler than moments before, face inches away from Sam's.

"Yeah?" Sam answered.

Sighing, Dean shook his head. "Never mind. How about you take a shower and then we eat?" He asked instead, wanting to truly inquire what was going on in Sam's head.

Nodding his head at a snail's pace, Sam menuvered around Dean's form and escaped to the shower as told. The door gave him the privacy he needed, tears already running down his cheeks as he stared at himself in the mirror. "You're alright…" He mimicked, hating the irony of it all. He wasn't even close to living.

Outside the bathroom Dean was scrubbing his hair with his knuckles, trying to calm the growing furriery in his belly. "What the hell Sammy?! What did you do to yourself?" The questions were growled, the answers floating beyond Dean's reach. Thought processing was interrupted as the phone began to ring in Dean's pocket, the caller id reading 'Bobby'. Apparently the hunter wanted to know a thing or two as well.

"What did you find?" Dean asked quietly, emotions gone for now. His eyes darted to the bathroom door where sounds of water pitter-pattering on the shower floor echoed from the bottom slit.

"The trickster was killed a month ago. Apparently the cops found a body torn to shreds like serial killer would do to its victims." Bobby mumbled into the phone, static slightly distorting his voice.

Ice formed in the pit of Dean's stomach.

"Before that a couple of hunters that I know personally spotted him in a two or three nasty clubs, one even spotting Sam fighting with a customer. She doesn't know what its about."

"Damnit Bobby…What happened to him?" Dean questioned not for the first time in two days.

"I don't know son, but I do know he needs you right now-badly." Sympathy dripped from Bobby's tone as he tried to console the troubled Winchester.

"I'll watch him. He tried to choke me again today Bobby. Right when he awoke." Dean added, feeling he needed to vent to someone.

A pause was heard on the other line. "What did you think he would be when you found him? Your death almost killed him Dean."

The truth hurt, stabbing the sharp blade of a knife into his heart and twisting the hilt so he bleed alongside his brother. "I know. I got to go Bobby. I hear the shower stopping." The door creaked open as Dean flipped his phone shut. Stuffing it hastily into his butt pocket, he offered a small smile at his brother.

Sam had not bothered to shave, his beard growing still. The sweat was washed off, some color flooding the Winchester's cheeks, fighting his pallor. "Eat."

Blinking, Dean gave Sam a skeptical look. "Eat?"

The skepticism caused Sam to blink back in return, nodding.

"You mean you're ready to eat?" Dean tried to reason out what his little brother was saying. The meaning hit home, relief dancing across Sam's face. His older brother could understand him when he barely understood himself. It lifted some weight off his shoulders.

"Okay…then let's go. Where did you park the impala?"

An half an hour later he was staring at his baby, his back tense. Sam had barely said two words, his motions…different. Like a robot he did what he was told, like he was wired to do what ever Dean said. Thankfully, the impala was not too contorted, the only change an iPod hooked in the cassette player. The item was tossed in the backseat once in sight. "Now, lets please get some food in my stomach. It is very unhappy as it is." Turning the key Dean almost purred alongside his baby's engine as it started up. Sam had kept the car tuned up, engine working beautifully as they peeled out of the parking lot.

"So, why didn't you talk to Bobby?" Dean blurted out, turning down ACDC and squeezing in a quick glance before going back to the road. He couldn't dent his baby after all.

Staring straight ahead, Sam answered in a quiet tone. "Couldn't."

One word answers again. It was another problem added on the list of troubles labeled Sam. "Okay…why not?"

"Couldn't."

Rolling his eyes Dean gave up, not on the whole situation but on trying to pull a sentence from his little brother's mouth.

The rest of the trip went in silence, the radio a dull hum in the background. Dean decided on a rusty looking diner, the striped décor somewhat appealing. The food was all that mattered.

Pushing the door open Dean stepped into the cool air. Bright rays of sun poked above the horizon, night coming soon. Smirking to himself at the sight of nature, he looked to see if Sam had followed suit. Not surprisingly, the youth was standing, staring at nothing as if waiting to be told to walk. "Come on Fido." Letting out a breathe, Dean followed his stomach, taking a seat in a cushioned booth. A menu was already splayed on the table, the damp surface sticking to the plastic like glue. Prying the damn thing from the surface, Dean eyed the contents with an hungry gaze.

"Oh yeah…the pork roast with fried French fries and covered in home made sauce." Dean chuckled, peeking over the menu to see if he got a reflecting smile across the table.

"Eat it." Sam replied nonchalantly, not even flinching in distaste.

Clicking his tongue, Dean glared at Sam. This wasn't his Sammy. No way would Sam not mock him for his choice in food especially with the example of the dish passing by them practically spilling grease onto the floor as the waitress balanced it sloppily. Suddenly he felt incredibly tired, dropping the menu and garbling something about needing air before dashing out the door. The cool breeze relieved some of his inner turmoil. He didn't know what to do with this version of his brother. He felt immensely angry, but not exactly at Sam but the world.

The sky seemed to crash down on him, shouting at him that heaven doesn't exist even in death. Flashes of pictures went through his mind; a slide show of what he remembered during is duration in hell. Scanning the surroundings, Dean suddenly screamed with all his might, clenching his fists. When the yell ended, he was ready to collapse right there and now. It was too much.

"I just need a nap." He finally told himself, glad that Sam did not seem him in his time of weakness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"What'll you have hunny?"

Sam blinked, turning from the window viewing his brother to the slightly pump waitress. Bright red lipstick coated her lips along with an obsessive amount of blue eye shadow. She looked down right scary with the makeup on, like a clown in disguise. Unable to even smile at the fact, Sam cleared his throat. "I'll have water and my friend the special." He said softly, voice croaking. The waitress nodded, scribbling down the order on her notepad before tucking it in her apron and taking the menu.

Sighing, Sam turned to look back through the window. His brother could be wearing a sign over his head his body language was so readable. Exhaustion rang off every limb and tendon. Deep down beneath the pain, Sam cared. He just couldn't reach it. A wall had built around his heart. The fear that he could lose Dean again was too strong to tame. What if he started to feel again and then Dean is snatched from his hands? He couldn't last another loss that huge. It would break him to tiny pieces.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, the Winchester truly miserable underneath the emotionless layer shielding him. Tearing his gaze away, he didn't bother to look up as the bell rang, announcing another customer. He knew it was Dean just by his walk and rustle of his leather jacket. The article of clothing had been clutched in his hands for a month after he buried Dean's body. It was his safety net.

"You order for us already?" The gruff voice of his brother reached his ears, the booth cushion squeaking as Dean sat down.

Lifting his chin Sam nodded. "Yeah. Got you the special." His eyes watched as Dean snorted, rubbing his face with a hand.

"Most I got out of you all day." Tapping the table with a finger, Dean looked at anything other than his brother. He didn't want to end up snapping at the kid. He would take one look at the stoic expression and end up screaming at Sam. So instead, his eyes traced every detail of the diner. From the old fashion advertisement of bubble gum to the cow scull hanging on the far wall, they all went under inspection.

"Here you go." The waitress cut in, placing the plates onto the table before disappearing.

The two Winchesters quickly dug into their food, the only substance going into Dean's stomach while Sam sipped on his water. His hands gripped the glass till red framed white bone. His eyes closed as he remembered a memory that continued to haunt him.

Flashes of dirt and ground surrounded him, the metallic clang of metal and rock echoing in his ears. It hurt, the blisters forming on his palms, splitting open as blood mixed with brown. Sweat pooled before spilling downward and soaking into his light white tee-shirt. The denim stuck to his skin, rubbing it raw as he continued to dig not only his brothers, but his own grave as well. Tears welded up in his closed lids, spilling down the side of his cheek as he kept his head turned away from the one person he cared about. A noose twisted tightly around his chest, air coming in loud gasps.

Hands reached into his nightmare, holding his shoulders, fingers twisting in his dirty locks. Like a doll he was turned, eyes snapping open as he found Dean crouching in front of him. No longer was he encased in filth, hair clean and jaw shaven. The bumbling sounds of the diner droned out the metal, memory fading into the background.

However the pain did not end, increasing as claws dug into him. This had to be what Dean felt as he died, Hell Hounds chewing him alive.

"Sammy, come on, don't do this." Dean whispered, hand moving to cup the side of his little brother's face. Tears wet his palm. He had been eating when he noticed quiet sobs coming from the youngest Winchester. Immediately dropping his fork he shot up, the sobs turning into gulps of needed air. Ignoring the rest of the public he centered on bringing his brother back, the youth frozen in place in some…memory Dean assumed. Resting his forehead against Sam's, he continued to talk softly. That's when Sam had opened those beautiful eyes, lids widening in panic. "Easy Sammy!" A full blown panic attack set in, Sam falling limp against Dean and the only thing saving the Winchester from the floor. "I got ya. Breathe alright? I'm here." He whispered into Sam's ear comfortingly.

"Need help?"

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Yeah, just please leave us alone!" Dean snapped, rubbing soothing circles in Sam's back. After a while the youth seemed to calm down, breathing become normal as he tried to unsuccessfully get up. Fingers wrapping in the cloth of Sam's jacket, Dean got off of his knees. "There we go."

Sam kept his head down, hands squeezing the leather jacket. "I…" He didn't know what to say. The pounding in his head made speaking difficult, thoughts slow. The one thing he did realize was that Dean was back.

"Alright, come on. We better get you home." Glancing over his shoulders at the onlookers, he glared, causing them to turn their heads. Facing Sam, he dropped down to ear level. "We are going to talk about this in the car." The younger Winchester tensed, scrambling to get up as Dean heaved him straight.

"I got it." Maybe he could get away before Dean ripped him in two. He just couldn't tell him. Using the walls for support, he quickly made it out of the diner, tears still running down his cheeks. Falling to his knees onto the parking lot he swallowed, feeling vomit contaminating his taste buds. Squeezing his eyes shut he let his contents hit the pavement. It burned his throat, nothing there except for water and acidic juices. Why did he have to go through this? He should have died, not his brother. Just as he was about to let himself fall arms snagged his waist and pulled him backwards so he landed on his butt. Something pressed harshly on his shoulder, Dean's face coming into view as he bent down next to him.

Wrinkles crinkled his forehead, lips tight. "What the heck happened?" He questioned, voice low but full of anger. Sam knew it wasn't because of the embarrassment of his brother puking in public. Still, it scared him.

Wiping his lips, Sam chuckled dryly. "What the hell do you think happened?" Standing, he swayed before getting his footing. Now Dean's own emotions matched the youngest Winchester. "THAT was me freaking out! THAT was because you died Dean! And THAT is why I fucken hate hunting!" Sam screamed, seething. Everything was coming out in one long pull.

Dean stepped back, shocked by his brother's outburst. He didn't expect anger but despair.

"YOU DIED DEAN! DIED AND LEFT ME FOR FOUR LONG FUCKEN MONTHS!" Sam continued to rant, tears freshly falling. "You died….not me." He hissed towards the end, voice almost gone. Stumbling over to a pillar supporting the roof he slammed his body against it, face pressed into cold cement. Hands curled protectively around his jaw, limbs trembling. He didn't care if he looked like a baby. He wanted to die. The emotions tearing him apart were too much. Everything was just too hard to handle.

A few feet away Dean sighed, smiling. His brother was telling him what's wrong, though Dean knew deep down what it was. Still, he knew Sam needed to get it out before rebuilding him again. Walking over, he leaned up to the right of Sam, facing the back of his little brother's head. "I know. And I'm sorry. But I'm here. I'm back. And more importantly, it'll be okay with us." Slipping his arms around Sam's waist, he did the most girlish thing he ever did in his life. He hugged Sam to him, nuzzling his nose into his shoulder. Sam welcomed the affection, turning and burying his face into Dean's neck. "I'm here."

Staring straight ahead, Dean promised he would never leave his brother again.

* * *

Thanks everyone for reading and I want to thank _**Elfmage**_ the most for such nice reviews!!


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